


don't you worry (there's still time)

by thedisasternerd



Series: études [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Fluff, Friendship, Hopeful Ending, Memories, Minor CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Other, Post-Episode: s04e07 Darkness on Umbara, Queerplatonic Relationships, i made myself cry by the end but it's all okay i promise, these boys deserve the best, you get the gist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedisasternerd/pseuds/thedisasternerd
Summary: "Me?" He resisted the urge to start laughing, hysterically."Me,Waxer?"His vod frowned."Elek, gar." At Boil's incredulous look, Waxer huffed a laugh and slapped him gently. "Who else would I be talking about, di'kut?""But-""Numa loved you, you bantha-head. In another life, maybe we'd raise her together."Boil stared at him."Wouldn't you want to settle down, ni nakar'mir, get married, or something?"Waxer just - looked at him funnily, like he thought Boil was joking but didn’t find the joke amusing."Why in the stars," he started, slowly, and then there was a genuinely confused look in his eyes, "would I need to get married? I have you, I have a brother, I have a best friend. The hells would I want anything else?"
Relationships: Boil & Waxer (Star Wars)
Series: études [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798291
Comments: 11
Kudos: 102





	don't you worry (there's still time)

**Author's Note:**

> * crying softly * I just want these boys to be _happy_.

> _Fault lines tremble underneath my glass house._
> 
> _But I put it out of my mind_
> 
> _Long enough to call it courage_
> 
> _To live without a lifeline._

No-one really knows when Boil and Waxer originally met.

It's probably because they grew up together, side-by-side. Waxer said, once, that they must’ve been jarred next to each other; he’d been oddly sure about that, and Boil had gotten the impression that he’d been clinging to some kind of hope. 

[ _The most vivid of Boil’s earliest memories of Waxer is bunking with him when they were about three or four._

_Waxer had, at the time, still been afraid of the dark. Boil doesn't know how he knows that, since it's his first memory and all that, but he knows for a fact that it's true as Waxer had explained it to him at some point; there had been an accident during one of the training programmes and the lights had gone out too. When they’d turned back on, three vod’e had been shot dead by the malfunctioning equipment. And since then, Waxer had said, pushing his nutrient mush around his plate, carefully not looking at Boil, he hadn't liked the dark._

_“I’m just scared. That I’ll open my eyes and. See someone else, or maybe just you, dead.”_

_But since anything out of the line (fear, attachment, even insomnia) could get you decommissioned, Waxer's life would've been on the line if any of the longnecks had found out. Boil knew that. Waxer knew that, and Boil’s pretty sure that at the time, Waxer hadn’t slept properly in at least a week._

_So if Boil remembers correctly, he'd distinctly thought “kriff the longnecks” and suspended himself off the side of his bunk after lights out, hanging upside down to see his best friend’s half of the bunk and ignoring the feeling of blood rushing to his head. Then he’d whispered, as loudly as he dared, Waxer’s name._

_He draws a blank as to what exactly happened after that, but he knows that a few minutes later, Waxer was quietly swinging himself up into Boil's bunk, settling down with his back pressed to the metal railings and Boil squeezed up against the wall._

_The rest of the memory is a sort of haze of feeling warm, of the comfort of Waxer breathing and very much alive next to him, before-_

_"If I'm here, the dark won't get you." Boil had declared, with all the solemnity that he could muster. "I promise, Waxer. I'll protect you."_

_His vod had hummed sleepily in reply, and the pact was sealed._

_But now. Waxer is-_ ]

They had, however, gotten into numerous fights over who’d been decanted first, as both of them claimed to be the older one. (Boil still laughs when he remembers the time when Cody had overheard; he’d just stared at both of them, sighed, and said “I’m the oldest, ad’ike,” then turned back to his cup of caff). It’s almost certain that they are actually the same age, but at some point the good natured ribbing had become a habit, and that habit was something they clung on to, some vestige of...something. Boil didn’t, _doesn't_ , like to think too much about it all; he supposes that if he did, he’d end up having an existential crisis, or start crying again, and he’s had his fill of all that already. Everyone has, even the shinies. Sometimes, when he’s on night shift, he sees the shinies (who are getting progressively younger each month) huddling together in scared groups. He sees officers sitting either alone or in pairs, staring glassy-eyed into the distance. He’s seen the commander doing it, too, unable to sleep because of his stupid caffeine dependence or just...unable to sleep, like the rest of them, like the general who sometimes flits through the hallways like a ghost.

It happened to Waxer, too. Waxer, who for all his competence, really shouldn’t have been in a war. Boil had been there for most of Waxer's breakdowns, the ones where he didn't speak for days on end, wandered around and did all his duties perfectly, but didn't _talk_ and his eyes were so _empty._ He would sit in his bunk and brush gentle fingertips over the painting of Numa that he had - _has_ , Waxer’s not gone yet, not _yet,_ but Boil’s been thinking of him as dead for the past couple days and he really shouldn’t - on his bucket. 

[ _"Do you think she's okay?" Waxer had asked, once._

_Boil shrugged._

_"I certainly hope so. C'mon, vod, she's fine."_

_Waxer sighed, and leaned into Boil's side. Wooley was annoying Trapper and Longshot across from them, so it wasn't silent, but neither Boil nor Waxer said anything and that was - quiet. They didn't have many silences between them; they talked about anything and everything, bitched about most things, although that was mostly Boil, who also had the tendency to either clam up or ramble on non-stop when he was stressed, while Waxer talked quietly and measuredly despite the tremors in his hands. Silences were few and far between, for them._

_"You know, Boil." Waxer had murmured eventually, and Boil had hummed questioningly, twisting his head to squint at his vod. "After the war. I'd like to… Maybe find Numa. Settle down somewhere."_

_"That sounds nice." It did sound nice, but Waxer hadn't mentioned Boil in his dream, and that hurt a little. Boil would never force himself on his brother, but he couldn't imagine a life without Waxer. And after the war... he'd been thinking of something like that, too. Just him and his closest vod. His vod-but-also-more-than-a-vod-but-also-still-his-brother. Maybe they'd travel around, find Numa. Go to the commander and general's wedding, providing the idiots had managed to get their di'kut heads out of their shebs. That'd all be... nice, if seemingly impossible._

_"Yeah." Waxer looked at him with a small, soft smile, but his eyes were sad. "You'd be a good buir, or ori'vod."_

_Boil froze._

_"Me?" He resisted the urge to start laughing, hysterically._ "Me, _Waxer?"_

_His vod frowned._

_"Elek, gar." At Boil's incredulous look, Waxer huffed a laugh and slapped him gently. "Who else would I be talking about, di'kut?"_

_"But-"_

_"Numa loved you, you bantha-head. In another life, maybe we'd raise her together."_

_Boil stared at him._

_"Wouldn't you want to settle down, ni nakar'mir, get married, or something?"_

_Waxer just - looked at him funnily, like he thought Boil was joking but didn’t find the joke amusing._

_"Why in the stars," he started, slowly, and then there was a genuinely confused look in his eyes, "would I need to get married? I have you, I have a brother, I have a best friend. The hells would I want anything else?"_ ]

Waxer'd have been better off teaching cadets back on Kamino, Boil thinks, but then he wouldn’t have Waxer (he's still not sure if he will ever have Waxer by his side again), and he doesn’t know what he'd do without his closest brother. Boil knows he comes across as hard, professional, even cold-hearted; that's true on some level, but if there was anyone he would die for, willingly, it would be Waxer. If there was anyone he would _live_ for - it would also be Waxer.

[ _"-oil. Boil. Vod, stay...me...Boil!"_

_Boil blinked his eyes open blearily. He probably shouldn't be sleeping on duty but his eyes just wouldn't stay open…_

_"Commander?" He slurred, squinting at Cody's scar. Yeah, definitely Cody. "Sorry sir-"_

_Cody's face did a weird thing before he was shoved aside and oh, that was nice, Waxer was here-_

_“You karking di’kut, kaysh mirsh solus, stars, Boil.”_

_“Hey Waxer.” Boil raised a hand, trying to bump Waxer’s shoulder in greeting, but, oh, his arms didn’t move, he couldn’t move- “Why’re you crying? What...where’s your bucket?”_

_“You kriffing threw yourself in front of me, you son of a kriffing bantha!”_

_Boil frowns at him._

_“You don’t swear.” He mutters. “Waxer? Are you okay?”_

_Waxer- Waxer_ laughs _. The sound is hysterical, and there’s wetness dripping onto Boil’s face - is it raining?_

_No. Waxer’s crying._

_“You’re_ bleeding out _, and you ask me if I’m okay?”_

_Boil attempts a shrug and a smile, then reaches up to try and wipe the tears off Waxer’s face_

_“Don’t cry, ner’burc'ya.” Boil managed. “It’s okay.”_

_“If you die I’ll kill you myself.” Waxer snapped._

_Boil smiled-_ ]

Boil has had far too much time to think, these past few days. Far too much time to remember.

[ _"You need to stop thinking, Boil." Waxer snapped._

_"The kriff would I do that?"_

_"You're overthinking and that's making you nervous."_

_Boil avoided all three options (the first was swearing like an angry spacer, the second was hysterical laughter and screaming, the third was crying. The fourth was all three), instead opting to go for the tried and tested, if unsuccessful, "blatant denial" method. It was not going to work on Waxer, since nothing for past the bastard, but it was better than completely breaking down._

_"Yeah, well, you're wrong. I'm thinking just fine and I'm perfectly fine."_

_"If you're gonna pull a Cody on me, I'm getting Painless and he can sedate you."_

_Boil glared, feeling betrayed._

_"That's just low, vod."_

_Waxer stared back, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow because people just_ think _he’s nice but he’s actually a bastard sometimes-_ ]

Boil realises, belatedly, that he’s crying again, and that he’s ended up in front of the bacta tank, staring at Waxer’s too-pale face, at the angry red just over his heart. At the mask over the familiar face. 

He looks down at Waxer’s helmet, which he’s holding far too tight in his hands, at the tally marks, the painting of Numa, the orange paint, now scratched and faded. They’d been planning to repaint their armour after the mission. Seems like they never will, now.

[- _Waxer’s sticking his tongue out as he paints his armour._

_Boil snickers and Waxer looks up at him. There’s paint on his face, a smudge on his cheek and a blob on his nose, but Boil doesn’t tell him._

_Waxer’s sitting on the floor of their rooms in the barracks on Coruscant, and is surrounded by pieces of his armour, the plastoid glinting dully in the bright overhead lights. He’s got a can of the customary 212 orange next to him with a brush sticking out of it, and, for some reason, cans of blue-green and black._

_“What’re you painting?” Boil asks, settling down next to his vod with his own bag of armour pieces. He takes out his bucket and examines it briefly before turning around to lean over Waxer's shoulder, squinting at his vod's own helmet._

_"You'll see." Waxer replied. Boil huffed._

_"Aw come on, vod." Boil didn’t jostle him further but did try to crane his head enough around Waxer’s shoulder to see. His vod just held his bucket up into the air._

_Boil laughed and reached for the can of orange paint, taking out his own brush (it’s not actually his, he stole it off Waxer and the name cut neatly into the paintbrush’s wood gave him away. Waxer knew since Boil can’t lie at all, and the question of “Boil, have you seen my spare brush?” had given him away immediately)._

_He dipped the brush in the paint and set about touching up the patterns on his helmet, Waxer humming that one song they’d caught the general singing. They’d pestered him to teach the Ghosts it and he’d given in surprisingly easily. It was apparently an old Nabooian folk song about lost love or whatever, and the wordy lyrics had at first made them all laugh. It was worth it though: seeing Cody wandering around and sing-mumble it around the_ Negotiator _for a few weeks; confusing the Torrent over the comms by randomly breaking out into song halfway through battle; singing it quietly under their breath as they huddled together in a cave together, wet and miserable, the general pretending that he wasn’t bleeding out; singing it with a shaking, full-chested voice when he was trapped, alone, scared, under rubble. At some point, it had become the Ghosts anthem, their first song, even when the general had taught them more and more songs from so many different cultures around the galaxy._

_Waxer was the most tuneful singer out of all of them and Boil was happy to work just listening to him hum._ ]

“Ah, Greensleeves, now farewell, adieu.” He mumbles and spins on his heel, sniffing, but just as he’s about to step forward he slams into the commander. Cody’s not wearing his bucket but Boil is, so he’s pretty sure he hears a crunch when their faces collide. He can’t bring himself to care as he watches Cody step back, pressing a hand to his face and swearing quietly.

[ _...Cody buried under a pile of shinies, Waxer sitting next to Boil looking far too smug, general Kenobi hovering behind them. Waxer turned around to look at their Jedi and smiled brightly, like the sunbursts on Cody’s armour._

_“Hey sir!” He chirped innocently and Boil had had to hide his smile in his fist and disguise his snort as a cough. Cody’s head had snapped up so fast that Boil wondered how he hadn’t broken his neck, and an elbow connected with the commander’s face._

_“Hello, Waxer, Boil.” General Kenobi murmured, smiling at them before his eyes slid over to Cody, who was pushing the profusely apologising shiny off of him and clutching at his face, swearing quietly. “I don’t believe I’m aware - why is the good commander being held down?”_

_“Well-” Boil and Waxer started at the same time as their new medic, Painless, came to stand next to the general and said: “Bonding time, or enforced naptime, for buir Kote and his adike Threk, Slice, Mango, Beskad and Meteor.”_

_“I see.” The Jedi rubbed a hand over his mouth and generally sounded amused, but there was a little bit of concern in his eyes when he looked over to Cody, who had managed to sit up and flatten his hair, but still looked - grumpy, for lack of a better word. Then, under all the concern and amusement and all those other surface emotions - there was something else, something Boil was scared of naming because he’d seen it in Cody’s eyes, too._

_Waxer sighed through his nose and did that weird thing with his fingers, twisting them into some interlocking pattern before arching his back with a crunch and getting up._

_Boil followed him._ ]

“Boil.” Cody rasps. “ _Boil._ ”

Boil turns away and tries to step past him, but Cody reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. The world is shaking, or maybe it’s just Boil, or maybe Cody’s shaking too. He wonders where solid ground went.

He wonders where Cody’s compassion went. Did it shrivel up and die as he scrolled through lists of dead vod’e? Did his razor focus narrow down to only the two beings he really, _really_ cared about?

“Boil” Cody looks up at him and his eyes are empty. “I wanted to say-”

“Don’t be.” Boil snaps and Cody just... _looks_ at him. “Don’t say you’re sorry. Why the kriff should you be sorry? It’s not like you even cared.”

Something sharp and hot and _angry_ flares inside him and Boil chokes on it, turning away to stare at the door before he does something like punch Cody.

“I care, Boil.” There’s something malformed and raw and painful in Cody’s voice, like glass tears with too-sharp edges cutting his throat. “I _always_ care.”

“You’ve still got captain Rex and general Kenobi.” 

“And you’ve still got Waxer.” Cody barks, loudly enough for Boil to turn and stare at him. Cody’s eyes are too-big in his face and he’s pale. “He’s _still alive_. Don’t - don’t bury him alive.”

And with that, he’s gone, moving silently out of the door.

Boil stares after him for a second, chest heavy but his head too light. Then, he turns around to stare at the bacta tanks. 

Waxer’s still breathing, tiny bubbles in the bacta. Boil clutches his vod’s bucket and jerks his head up, taking in a deep breath as he steps forward and presses a hand to the cold surface of the tank. He knocks his forehead against the transparisteel and breathes. In a fit of fanciful thinking, he imagines that his and Waxer’s breathing is in sync.

They’ll survive, together.

**Author's Note:**

> this might get a continuation, you never know...
> 
> [di'kut - idiot  
> ad'ike - young children  
> vod('e) - sibling(s)  
> elek, gar - yes, you  
> ni nakar'mir - I don't know  
> buir - parent  
> ori'vod - older sibling  
> kaysh mirsh solus - stupid (lit. "his brain cell is lonely")  
> ner’burc'ya - my friend]
> 
> Anyway, come yell/cry with me [here](https://thedisasternerd.tumblr.com/) :)


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